


Watch the Road, Simon

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (happens sometime in the middle), Book 2: Wayward Son, Driving, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 17:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: Snow should always look like this. Driving a beautiful car with the top down and the whole of America in front of him--he’s practically glowing. The wind whips his curls every which way and I very nearly have to sit on my hand to stop myself running my fingers through those sun-kissed locks.Here I am again, thinking poetic thoughts about Simon Snow’s hair.





	Watch the Road, Simon

BAZ

Snow should always look like this. Driving a beautiful car with the top down and the whole of America in front of him--he’s practically glowing. The wind whips his curls every which way and I very nearly have to sit on my hand to stop myself running my fingers through those sun-kissed locks.

Here I am again, thinking poetic thoughts about Simon Snow’s hair.

The music changes and Snow laughs, and for a moment that lasts an hour I’m lost in that laugh. It’s unrefined, and coarse, and absolutely perfect. I have no idea why he’s laughing, but I’d do anything to make him do it again.

SIMON

I laugh when the song starts again. Honestly, how difficult is it to name a horse? 

Still, I like the song. I feel a sort of kinship with the horse. He’s nameless, and I’m...well, I’m everything-else-less.

I mean, I’ve got a name. Simon Snow. But I’ve got no _past_. No _history_.

And now no direction. Because what do you do when you spend eight years being a superhero and then turn into a nobody? Even worse, a nobody who can’t seem to get off the bloody sofa?

But today I can drive. Crowley, this car is brilliant. It’s like flying, the endless rippling gold of the grassland stretched out in front of us, interrupted only by the black of the highway, and the sky is like a blanket of blue above us. Not a single cloud to disrupt it, just the gigantic yellow-white of the sun somewhere behind, pushing our shadows onto the road ahead. Only this kind of flying I can do with Baz and Penelope, and I don’t have to worry about anything getting tangled up in my wings.

I want to look at Baz. Even without looking I know he’s perfect--wind-tossed hair, giant sunglasses, blue silk shirt perfectly matching the car. I think it’s silk. Baz is better at that stuff than me. When I first saw him this morning I wanted to run my hand down his arm, to feel the softness of the shirt and his cool, toned muscles beneath. I wanted to slip my arms around him, to press my face into his neck and breathe his scent. But I don’t know the rules anymore, about when it’s okay to touch, or even if it’s okay to touch.

Is he still mine?

BAZ

Even with the wind in our faces, blowing Snow’s scent far behind us, I can still smell him. Maybe it’s in my head, but every breath is Simon Snow. He fills my senses. Not in an “I want to drain every drop of blood from your body” kind of way, just in an “if I can’t touch you soon I’ll fucking explode” kind of way.

So I do.

Slowly, like I’m approaching a wounded animal, I slip my hand through the space between us until it’s resting softly on Snow’s leg. I expect him to start, but instead he goes still, not even breathing. But I can hear his heartbeat quicken. Even over the music and the roar of the wind the beating of his heart thunders in my ears.

He starts to breathe again. He looks down at my hand, then his eyes slip sideways until they find mine. It’s only a breath, but it feels like eternity.

“Watch the road, Simon.” I say.

He does.

SIMON

“Watch the road, Simon,” Baz says. As if it’s nothing, as if there isn’t an electric current passing between us.

I love when he calls me Simon.

BAZ

There’s still something broken. I think--I know--someday we’re going to have to figure out how to say more than a few words at a time to one another. But for now we can drive into the sky, and we can just be.

Simon puts his hand over mine.

I think I might explode after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Wayward Son so very much! I'm probably going to end up writing quite a bit, but this little scene just popped into my head, so I had to get it written. 💙


End file.
